"Just Forget About It"

Today would have been my mother's birthday, number 86- I think.
She would have asked for underwear, I would have gotten something that I thought missed the mark not underwear- be it book or clothes. Or cookbook.
We would have made a cake-my daughter would have- and we'd have tried to have seafood.
But August took her away.

In her last year Mom lost her righteous anger. She fought dog tracks, foolishness, wrongs, ran for school board, believed in civic action, and social justice. But in her last year she seemed to meditate, and be so calm. It might be that removing her cigarette smoking turned her inward, or that she felt it was right for her, but since she modeled to me all her life I felt it was interesting that she no longer seemed to enjoy a good argument-and one of her last statements had to do with getting home to make my son food. In fact she'd hold her head in that year and seemed to lose that anger. Mom had plenty to be furious about. God I'd love recount the suffering. But what I noted was she was left with her love-of my brother, for her grandkids, of a blue blossom outside. In life.
Even at that end she taught me-telling me music returned to her-she could hear an orchestra playing. Her deafness robbed her of the music she loved. She left hearing song. Which surely is a love melody-"Some Enchanted Evening" she said was playing.

It was probably then I realized that we were near her leaving this life. I was there to face it with her, but she traveled the road alone.

Anger was where Mom would go, younger, to get through tough situations. No money to fix teeth, no fairness from a husband that failed to love and care for her, the wrongs of the world. She would say that she could stand up and fight but she knew unfair things were there to be defeated. Anger cost her, but she also rode it to get through. But not in her last year.

One thing I learned of this was the toll it took on her. She stated, "I did this to myself."


And how it left me always so terribly sad for her, so full of regret, so consumed by a need to help her. To love her. It was a great place to get lost-like en endless maze with twists and turns and no way to get a distance to see anything clearly, no escape. Anger is the ultimate dead end maze.

In her last year her mind was sloggy, but not gone. She made a decision to do it differently. She told me as much. I found that truly brave. I found her facing the last minutes of her life just as brave. She fought to breathe and lost. It was like she lived, and I realized that in this life-this was the nature of her reality.

I don't know the why of that really-nor will I ever know. But I do know this was how her life had been framed.

I can hear my mother saying for me to go on and just do whatever I was going to do today, over having a celebration/rememberance, because that was what she always said on her birthday. She'd tell me to say NOTHING on a blog. I can see her almost painful opening of whatever gift and then her somehow giving it right back. And I can hold the feeling and look at it as how I always felt, or usually felt, on February 16. See her enjoying her dinner too.

Often her causes were my causes, without doubt I found her analysis of many things to be based in real study and investigation-deeply thought out for what might best help all of us. If she took on something the resulting obsessive work to know was going to be a thing to behold. Had she been younger, and unleashed on these ed things I care about, it would be something to witness. But one thing I did note-she wasn't easily a victim of a lack of compassion.
Nothing seemed to steal that from her.

Happy Birthday Momma!